


Woodwork

by Torpi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Celegorm being Celegorm (a brat), Drama, Family, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, Humour, Sort Of, many things get destroyed but most people live, more like kidnapped family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torpi/pseuds/Torpi
Summary: The aftermath of the second kinslaying goes a different route when Celegorm finds himself very much alive, and in the vicinity of the two children of the man he had just killed. Ever undaunted, Celegorm tries to make the best out of his situation. There is a small catch though.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Eluréd & Elurín, Eluréd & Elurín & Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros&Celegorm
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Woodwork

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed as of yet. If you see typos or grammar mistakes, feel free to tell me.

Celegorm is in full battle frenzy, fighting for his life when his opponents disappear and he finds himself in an unknown part of the forest, sword-hand gripping thin air. He walks a few steps experimentally. It is bitter-cold and the visibility is poor. The trees seem bigger than he remembered but the light is the same; he must have been transported in another place. While these thoughts run through his head, his teeth start to chatter. He looks down and realises with faint surprise that his armour has disappeared as well leaving him in thin underclothes. 

A small sound behind him makes him whirl and he sees a boy, no older than thirteen look at him in confusion. His hair is silver, his eyes are dark, clothes thick, he observes with envy. Another boy, identical with the first, comes and puts his hand to his lips, motioning they’re being followed. 

_Why are they so tall_ , Celegorm wonders. They are at least a head taller than him, a ridiculous notion. 

As they approach, the look of confusion changes to realisation, horror and disbelief. 

‘You!’ Shouts one, ‘you killed father. Kinslayer!’ 

The oldest grabs him by the collar and punches Celegorm right in the face. He had raised him effortlessly, Celegorm, legs dangling in the air, realises dimly before his head snaps back from the punch. In retaliation, Celegorm kicks his stomach savagely then twists in the clumsy hold, wraps his legs around the boy and gets him in a triangular chokehold.

His brother comes waving a knife at him and he lets go hastily, jumping back and away from them. He looks at them warily from his low crouch. His hands are getting numb from the cold but he does not dare show any discomfort. He sees the boy’s hand is trembling and he realises too late it was a bluff. He bares his teeth and spits at them. `Not good enough`, he calls in what he wishes to be a mocking voice but sounds clear and high. And petulant, annoying even him. Apparently, it has the same effect on the older boys. 

`Ada was good enough to kill you!` Shouts back the first one furiously, cheeks red.

`With thirty others to help him`, Celegorm shot back. `My father fought a horde of balrogs alone`.

`And he died!`, the second one yells. `He must not have been very good either`, he adds, mimicking his earlier patronising tone. 

`Don’t you dare about atya like that, you miscreant! You little shit!’ Celegorm screams, stomping his foot in anger so hard it hurts, surprising even himself with the vehemence. `You know nothing about my dad`.

‘I know he made a thing that killed everybody! I know he-‘

Celegorm does not wait to hear anything more but launches screaming at Eluréd and rains blows on him, heedless of the hits he receives in turn. His brother comes and in the end they manage to pin him down despite his efforts. Elurín sits on top of him, slapping him hard and yelling at him to stop while Celegorm has managed to grab his hair and is pulling with all his might. His brother keeps trying to unclench his fingers but Celegorm keeps the other boy off balance, pulling his head to and fro so the older boy cannot get a full grip on him. 

‘You don’t know a thing about our father! You worthless good for nothin orc! What do you know about him? You only came to kill!’ 

‘I know nothing’, Celegorm screams. ‘He must not be very important. That means none will care he’s dead’.

They pale and scream and Eluréd gets up and kicks his head. Dizzy from pain, Celegorm’s grip slackens and the other boy jumps back from him. The older boy’s hair is a tangled mess, Celegorm observes to his satisfaction and waves the long silver strands gripped in his hands mockingly at them.

‘Our father made sure we were safe; what did yours do?’, Elurín asks him accusingly.

Celegorm stops. His father is amazing. His father is strong. His father is dead and cannot hold him in his arms again. To his horror, his chin starts wobbling. The two older boys look at him surprised, and the flash of pity in their eyes is the last straw as he starts bawling. He is six years old again, with a child’s way of thinking and fresh childhood memories meshed with his full adult memories. He tries to laugh at the irony of it all but instead cries harder, tightening in a miserable ball. 

He feels them come closer and cries harder, cringing. ‘Leave me alone!’ He sobs, lashing out when he feels them reach for him tentatively. His face is red and puffy from crying. His nose is bleeding, his face smeared with blood and snot. He has a black eye, his left wrist is puffy and it hurts. He looks a fright but he cares about none of these. His father is _dead_.

He wobbles away from them, keeping both in his field of vision. But then, instead of taking care of the damage to his wrist, the most pressing one, he sits down hard in the snow, uncaring of the cold and stupidity of doing this, and starts crying again with big hiccuping sobs. He is tired and hurt, and cold.

When they finally approach him again he is shivering from cold, too exhausted to fight them off and so allows the two boys to take him between them. The warmth makes his shivering subside into tremors that stop after a while as well. They clean his face after that and he sniffs a bit and they stop to ask him if it hurts. He shakes his head resolutely even if the motion makes him dizzy and vows to not scream or cry. His eyes water at the corners but that is because they use a rough patch of cloth to clean his face. He is not crying, he tells them firmly in a quavering voice. 

They poke and prod at his wrist and he grits his teeth and tells them how to bandage it. They manage to put his wrist in an improvised sling made from a length of wood and ripped piece of the eldest’s cloak. He has started to give orders on where they should go, but they simply give him one of their jackets and start in what he is sure is a random direction. He almost goes in a different direction to search for his men, but seeing the blurring shapes going away, his heart skips a bit and in the end he hurries after them, telling himself he should probably take care of the stupid kids even if they were little shits. He had fought with Atarinkë like this a few days ago; he did not hold grudges for that.

He burrows himself the jacket they gave him; it is much too big for him, and its ends are trailing on the uneven ground, snagging at roots and low branches, making him trip. He bites his lips to stop his undignified whimpers and to crush the urge to plead with them to walk slower and wait for him.

They turn and see him, and come next to him, the brothers huddled together under one cloak. After he becomes too tired and stumbles and drops face first on the frozen ground one too many times, they take turns to take him under their cloaks. It is warmer this way and he feels safer. 

_I am not a whiny kid, I am not a whiny kid_ , Celegorm chants in his head. His next words escape anyway: ‘I am tired. When are we stopping? It’s cold!’ In a whiny voice. Shit. 

The boys (kids) turn to him and the eldest wordlessly takes him in his arms. Despite himself he snuggles in his shoulder, going to the path of dreams. When he wakes up, they are sleeping in a heap, almost buried in warmmoss. He goes to sleep again.

* * *

‘What is your name?’, Elurín asks the next morning. The air is crisp, and Celegorm is ravenously hungry and cranky. They should have put some traps for rabbits; they have to eat. A careless move reminds him of his wrist which seems to be healing slower than usual.

‘Turkafinwë’, he replies curtly. His voice is sleepy. 

Turkafinwë Fëanorian?’, The younger asks, lips curling a bit in disgust. The syllables seem dirty.

‘Turkafinwe Tyelkormo Fëanárion, also called Celegorm in your tongue’, he replies formally. Seeing their stares he starts talking about official protocol for noldorin princes in Valinor, going off on a tangent about differences in grammar between valinorean quenya and sindarin and somehow gets to an obscure rule of suffixation in proto-quenia. The children look lost. He bites his lip and concludes with a “so there”. He had forgotten what had started the discussion.

‘The tree got bored’, Elured informs him, yawning.

Celegorm throws the old trunk a dirty look. ‘Stupid tree’ he sneers, throwing a handful of snow in it half-heartedly. Snow showers him in reply and he curses and screams, trying to kick the tree as Eluréd and Elurín drag him away. Eluréd takes him in his arms again and Celegorm buries his face in his shoulder, sniffling aggravatedly, cheeks red from fury. ‘I hate that tree’, he hiccups. ‘I am cold’. 

Elurín taps his shoulder and gives him a handful of red berries. Celegorm throws him a dirty look but takes them with his left hand. ‘Poisonous?’ He asks, automatically suspicious. Elurín rolls his eyes, snatches one back and pops it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing exaggeratedly. Mollified, Celegorm eats as well and his hunger intensifies. They hunt for winter berries, dig for mushrooms, search for edible moss and even eat tree bark. It is not enough. 

Birds and squirrels start congregating towards them, he observes. Animals like the kids and many seem to know them. He is envious. They make another stop, Eluréd finally letting him touch the ground again, and Celegorm scampers up the nearest tree and manages to charm the squirrels out of some nuts. He goes back to the boys and shares them, proudly. 

Eluréd and Elurín do not seem to be able to decide between wariness and congratulations, thinking he must have threatened the squirrels to get them. He almost throws the nuts in their faces after that. 

Suddenly the brothers cock their heads and talk briefly in hushed whispers. He thinks he sees a flash of red somewhere in their minds, something burning bright and deadly. They take his hand and start walking at a brisk pace, changing directions often. ‘Why did we leave so quickly?’ He asks. ‘The squirrels promised us to give more nuts’.

‘They need those for their family’, Eluréd replies curtly. He lets go of his hand and stretches ostensibly. They seem to be looking for something. Celegorm sees their watchful eyes roaming around the trees but does not say anything. Instead, he pouts. ‘Is someone following us?’ He asks, remembering the movement. 

Elurín smiles and bribes him again with dark sweet berries and Eluréd lifts him again in his arms and they start walking. The berries burst on his tongue, tart and sweet and filling and he soon forgets about his annoyance with the other boy. In the end, his hands and face are smeared with sticky purple juice; some has gotten on Elured's hair as well. He surreptitiously tries to wipe it and only succeeds in making it worse. The hairs sticks to his palm and he grimaces, rubbing them on Elured’s cloak to take them off. The red colour makes him remember something.

‘Who is following us?’

Lips pursed, Eluréd does not answer.

‘Who is following us?, Celegorm asks Elurín this time, more suspiciously, but the boy does not say anything either. 

He starts screaming bloody murder in the boy’s ear and Eluréd almost drops him. Elurín shushes him furiously but Celegorm does not listen so in desperation Elurín throws himself on top of him and puts his hand to his mouth but Celegorm bites him and scampers away, screaming loudly. He stops briefly to breathe and the silence seems deafening. 

He whistles a code he used with his troops and brothers, a piercing whistle detailing his current position, and the reply is close and familiar. His big brother is coming for him.

Eluréd and Elurín look horrified and start running in the opposite direction. ‘Don’t run!’, He shouts after them! ‘He can take care of us! He is good!’... He stumbles and trips, his steps faltering and his voice falters as well. ‘He would not hurt you’, he whispers.

His big brother appears, bloody, sword drawn. Celegorm shouts for him and they fall into their usual rhythm, running after the other children. They manage to separate them, and Maedhros catches Eluréd and holds him under his right arm, hands close to his body so that the boy cannot use them. Elurín comes back running and his brother shouts at him to go away. Celegorm, now perched safely on his brother’s shoulders, taunts the other to keep up and Elurín, incensed, runs after them with the fury of a fell beast. Celegorm, feels his spirits soar. He is safe now.

A breathless Maedhros arrives at the main body of their army, and his arrival is almost unnoticed. A teenaged Caranthir is there, giving orders in the clear voice of a child with a frazzled Maglor holding a baby Curufin who screams and cries, pulling at his hair. There are also many children sitting on the ground with a few adults, that the guards try to pretend are not there and guard them at the same time.

‘Welcome back, háno!’, Maglor says, relieved. 

Seeing his brothers, Celegorm starts laughing like a hyena. Eluréd finally aims well, making Maitimo stumble in pain from a kick to his spine and Elurín slides in with an ankle sweep making Maitimo fall. He touches the ground on his left side to protect his charge. Celegorm jumps on Elurín, ready to defend his brother but their scuffle is quickly arrested by Celegorm’s second in command. 

‘Welcome back, my lord’, he says neutrally, dangling him by the scruff of his neck.


End file.
